Watching and Dancing
by Agrestic
Summary: Once upon a time there were two little girls who became the daughters of a legend. Friends and enemies. Always sisters. Runa & Sofie - Rated for a naughty word or two at best.
1. Chapter 1

From her stool in the corner, the small bard gently strummed on her lute. The melody was pleasantly upbeat, but soft enough that it didn't disturb the immense group of women gathered at the long table in the main hall of the manor. Spread along the table were soft pink flowers, bowls filled with petals and slices of red berries that tinged the water. The women lazily nibbled from plates of sugared fruits, tarts filled with heavy cream, and cuts of smoked meat and thinly sliced cheese. Among all the flowers and food were many pieces of jewelry and gemstones, without settings, that sparkled in the candlelight.

At the head of the table, Sofie sat absolutely still as the woman behind her wove a colored ribbon through her hair. The front was already decked out with pearl hair pins and tiny blue mountain flower buds that had been picked that very morning. The back still hung loosely and pooled on the expanse of chair she didn't take up. It was long and silky, but rarely saw such fine attention. Usually she threw it up and pinned it before pulling on her cloak and setting out into the marshes. But tonight was special. Tonight they'd primp her until they found the perfect look for the following mornings festivities.

Standing in the Temple of Mara required something completely different from her leather armor and muddy boots. Despite her friends support, and encouragement from her parents, Sofie was more nervous than excited.

Of course Frothar was a good man. Honest, respectful, hard-working. He was a capable warrior, and didn't mind that on occasion he'd come calling and catch her fresh from the chicken coup, or covered in mud after hunting for fungal pods. He wasn't overly formal, and he wasn't overly thoughtful. Her mother and papa were well-respected in Whiterun, so she'd grown up along Frothar, seeing him almost every day during visits to Dragonsreach. Unlike Runa, her older sister, Sofie was mild and sweet. She had a love for plants that reflected in the fine specimens she tended to in her mothers green house.

It seemed almost fitting that she become a wife to someone who was just meant to rule. Frothar would make an excellent Jarl someday. He listened to his people, he was firm, and he was just perfectly... bland. He was bland. But bland wasn't always bad. Bland was safe and secure. Bland was patient and forgiving. Bland didn't take off to explore caves, or kill smugglers and bandits. Bland didn't leave for weeks at a time, and come home just to drop off some trinkets before going out again. Bland told you they loved you, and would never know you as the small orphan selling flowers on the streets of Windhelm.

Sofie could handle bland.

"Where did your father get these?" Fiona, the shapely brunette Breton on her right asked, holding up a particularly dazzling pair of ruby earrings. Sofie came back to the present and forced a smile. The longest part of the evening had consisted of digging through the collection of jewelry to find just the right pieces for Sofie to wear the next day.

On her left, Runa rolled her eyes and held out her hand to take the earrings. Sofie remained where she was, trying to keep her back straight so as not to jar the intricate braiding she was undergoing.

"Let me see." Her older sister snapped impatiently.

Fiona dropped the earrings into her palm, and after a moment of inspection, Runa smiled.

Runa was stunning in every way. She was tan with long golden hair, lush lips, and large sparkling eyes. Sofie was short and well enough off in looks. But Runa... Runa was all legs and breasts, and big adventurous smiles that tempted men to leave their wives and go traipsing off to their deaths after her. Runa was drinking ale with the Companions, and winning arm wrestling competitions, and belching loud enough to shake the antlers hung on the walls.

"These came from a sunken pirate ship, west of Winderhold."

She held the earrings back out, and the women 'oohed'.

"That's amazing!" Arana, a plump Bosmer said, taking a sip from her glass before helping herself to more of the brandy on the table.

Sofie sighed dreamily. "Yes it was."

The woman doing her hair gave her a gentle tug, and Sofie smiled apologetically as she straightened up. She primly rested her hands in her lap, the picture of elegance.

"What about this one?" A lovely and petite blonde said, holding up a sapphire necklace with one hand as she bit into a berry with the other.

Runa grinned. "That one was found in a chest in Labyrinthian after our mother destroyed an ancient Dragon priest!"

The table grew quiet as Runa stood and snatched the necklace away. She held it high in the air with one hand, and gestured dramatically over the table with the other.

"They say that the Arch Mage, Savos Aren, damned his fellow mages to forever guard the wicked priest's ghost! That is, until my mother swept in and magicka-ed that bitch back to Oblivion!" She sat back down and took a gulp from her bottle of mead, her crooked smile causing Sofie to roll her eyes. "True story, ladies. Look it up."

"Did you say your mother?" A blonde asked tentatively, pushing the necklace away from her as if it were cursed.

"Why, yes, actually. Mother was a great adventurer. Before we came along she lived on the road." Sofie confirmed, giving Runa a sharp look. Like their mother, Sofie wasn't one for theatrics or drama, and Runa's performances usually got out of hand.

"How horrid."

Runa wrinkled her nose and shook her head, ignoring Sofie's glare.

"No, no. It was wonderful. She told us all of her stories. Like uhh... Oh! Like when she went diving through Dwemer ruins and fought off armies of these mechanical spiders!" Suddenly Runa was on her feet, her arms spread wide and a broad grin on her face.

"She told me they'd shoot out of these massive, dwarven pipes! And skitter across the stone and spring at your face!"  
Using her hands, she walked them like spiders across the surface of the table and earned little shrieks of laughter as she threw her hands inches before the girl's faces.

"Then! Once she got past all the creations, she had to fight through waves of the savage Falmer!"

Grabbing a plate, she dumped the food off and held it up in front of her, slouching forward as she trudged slowly around the table. As soon as she got to the end, she released a low growl and sprang at a red-headed lass at the end of the table.

"Oh Runa! You're just making things up now!" She squealed, and Runa smiled as she set the plate down.

"You don't know the half of it." She looked up dreamily at an ebony mace mounted on a plaque set above the table. "My mother and my papa, saw wonderful things."

"Oh, tell us more!"

Runa turned around smiling.

"Well, there was the time where my mother and papa found a vampire, sealed away for hundreds of years! With an Elder Scroll!..."

Sofie had had enough. Usually she didn't mind Runa's antics, but tonight wasn't about her. It was about Sofie and making her look lovely, and delicate, and as stunning as possible. It was about feeling wonderful and amazing before she dedicated herself to someone else, for the rest of her days.

It was her last night to feel extraordinary, but Gods be damned if she'd ever shine with her sister in the room.

She held up her hand to gently warn away her hairdresser and stood. The girls screamed and laughed, and soon Runa was practically on the table, holding up a loaf of bread and trying to lower her voice to sound more like a man's.

From her stool in the corner, the small bard continued to gently play the lute. The melody was pleasantly upbeat, but loud enough to cover the sound of the bride's footsteps, as she stepped away from the table and outside into the crisp night air.


	2. Chapter 2

It was raining. Cold, grey, gloomy kind of rain. The kind that starts late in the evening and doesn't stop. It pounds against the roof and runs down the walls into the dirt. Everything is muddy and sopping wet, and the air smells muggy and weighed down.

Durak, the Orc, had built a fire and stood next to it, feeding it small handfuls of dried grass. Sofie wondered how he didn't boil up inside his Dawnguard armor. She'd be all steamed up and hot if she wore as many layers as him. Even today she put on socks because her toes had been cold, but now she was warm and couldn't help but fidget in her seat.

Durak had been taking care of everything for almost a month now. Ever since mama had been rushed home and straight to bed. The doors to that wing of the house had been closed, and only papa and Durak were allowed to go in now. Papa only came out for food and Durak wouldn't say a word about it.

Sofie scooted from her seat, and Durak turned to look at her.

"Where are you going?" He growled, his eyes shifting from Sofie to the closed doors of the bedroom. Sofie looked behind her. She didn't want to go in there. Runa swore mama was dead, that's why papa wouldn't let them see her.

Sofie knew better though.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

"That's not what I asked." Durak looked at her bowl. It was still full.

"I'm going to go play."

Durak scowled then nodded, waving her away and turning back to the fire.

Sofie scurried up the stairs and to the room she shared with Runa. Runa was already getting dressed. Three years older than Sofie, Runa was tall and slim with long blonde hair that she kept braided and out of her way.

"Get dressed." She commanded, and Sofie hurried to grab her boots from under her bed.

"Where are we going?" She whispered, glad she already had on socks.

"Outside." Runa said, stuffing a blanket into a pack and throwing it over her shoulder. "Hurry up, I want to feed Thunder."

Sofie didn't like Thunder. He was mama's horse. He towered over the earth and was black as night. When he galloped, he made such a ruckus that everyone knew he was coming. Papa always told stories about bandits running for cover when Thunder approached with mama on his back. That scared her. If big, tough bad guys were afraid of a horse, imagine what it could do to a little girl. She could step wrong and be squashed. Thunder would eat her for dinner!

But Sofie didn't tell Runa this. Runa was bigger than her and knew all the fun things to do. Runa almost never took Sofie along.

Besides, she didn't have to feed Thunder, Runa would.

They hurried down the stairs and into the main hall. Durak was nowhere in sight, but Sofie was sure she could hear sounds from the kitchen. They threw open the front door and closed it softly behind them.

The rain was sharp and both girls screamed and giggled as they ran across the muddy grounds and into the stable. It smelled like wet hay and manure, and Runa turned to Sofie with her nose pinched between her fingers.

"It smells like horse poop." She said in a funny voice, and both girls laughed. They laughed so long that the horses snorted at them and their hot breath tickled and made them laugh even harder.

Finally, Runa pulled an apple from her bag and held it up, palm flat to Thunder. Sofie moved closer to her papa's horse and watched Runa be fearless. Runa truly was, fearless. She didn't scream at spiders and would sometimes run all the way to the edge of the property and howl at the wolves as the moon came out. Runa had seen a giant herding mammoths, and swore that someday she'd have mammoth cheese on toast with one.

One time in Whiterun she'd even pinched Dagny when she'd taken Sofie's sweet roll! Pinching a jarls daughter was the bravest thing Sofie ever saw.

"Sofie, come on!"

Sofie shook her head and looked up. She wanted to scream, but bit her tongue, and hard.

Runa had pulled herself into Thunders saddle and held her hand down to help her sister up.

"The rains died down, let's go for a ride before Durak notices we're gone!"

Sofie shook her head, and clutched tight to her papa's horse's leg.

"We can't! You never rode Thunder! That's mama's horse!" She protested, and Runa frowned, pulling her hand back.

"Not anymore, Sofie. Mama's dead." She hissed. Her voice was just like a snakes, soft and full of venom. Sofie didn't know how Runa had come to be so angry.

"Mama's dead, and she isn't coming back. So stop being a lil' milk drinker, and get on the horse!"

Sofie clenched her fists and shook her head, flinging drops of water from her crooked brown locks.

"No she's not! Mama's not dead, and that's not your horse! I'm not going!"

Runa swung down from the saddle and grabbed the front of Sofie's tunic. Thunder was a well-trained animal and didn't move unless directed to.

"You're just a baby! You know that! A weak little baby!"

Sofie grabbed her hand and dug her dirty nails into her sister's hand.

"No I'm not! You're a jerk! A big bully! You're worse than a bandit! Or a murderer!"

Runa drew back her other hand and slammed it into Sofie's face. A stream of blood started gushing out of her nose, and Sofie screamed in pain. She tried to pull away, but Runa held her up, even when her legs went out.

"Shut up! I hate you! I hate you so much! You ruin everything!" She screamed. Tears ran down her face as she watched her little sister cry and bleed.  
"Why won't you do as your told? Mama's not coming back! Mama's dead! Papa doesn't care about us, mama didn't care!" She let go of Sofie's tunic and watched her land in a puddle of mud.

Sofie couldn't move, she was so shocked. She just blinked through the rain as Runa ranted on and on, hiccuping and crying and wiping at her nose with the back of her hand.

"We're all we've got. We're all alone! We were alone once, and we're alone again." She stood with fists clenched, ignoring the rain and the way her tunic clung to her skin. She ignored the booming thunder from over head, and the way the wind picked up around them.

Sofie slowly got to her feet, covered in mud and blood and rain. She held her arms out from her body and shivered as she turned from her sister and headed for the house.

"If we go now, I'll forgive you!" Runa screamed, clutching onto Thunder's reigns as she watched Sofie trudge through the mud to the door. Sofie didn't turn around or pay attention. She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind her.

The house was warm and she could see Durak further down the hall. She stripped off her boots and her tunic until she was down to her shift and her socks. It was a little damp, but dry enough. She walked around the table and to the doors that led into the wing of the manor where her papa was.

"Sofie, get away from there." Came Durak's stern voice. Sofie ignored him and threw the doors open. The air was stale and it hit her with a bite. She gagged and stepped into the room.

"Sofie, what are you doing in here?"

She ignored her papa. He was ragged looking and worn down. Aged thirty years by thirty days. He'd been sitting next to the bed on a small chair. In the bed was mama, and she was fast asleep.

"Sofie, you need to go. You can't be in here, sweetling.." Her papa was gripping her shoulders, gently pulling her back towards the doors.  
Sofie touched his hands with hers and struggled. He was stronger, and started lifting her from the floor.

Sofie screamed and started crying.

"Mama! Wake up!" She wrenched free and scurried across the floor like a desperate animal. She reached the side of the bed before her papa could reach her. She lifted the covers and dove underneath and clung to the woman in the bed.

"Mama! Wake up! Please wake up!" She cried, and the figure gently shifted. She placed her hand on Sofies head and turned her head the other way to cough.

"Darling, why are you in here?" She croaked, turning her blood-red eyes to the small figure next to her. She was hot to the touch.

"Runa says you're dead." Sofie said, playing with the thin shift her mother wore. Just like hers.

Her mother frowned. "Well you see that I'm not."

Sofie fidgeted and snuggled further into the mattress. Her mother's voice was hoarse, yet soft. It sounded like she was fighting just to speak. Her mother had never had issues speaking before. She could shout off the roof if she wanted!

"But Runa says you are. And that papa doesn't love us."  
She looked over at her papa, and he was crying. He ran his hands over his face and stood, leaving the room and Sofie alone with her mother.

She was running her grey hands over Sofies hair, working through the tangles and pinching out the mud.

"Why would Runa say that? You know your papa loves you." She croaked.

Sofie nodded.  
"I know."

"You know I love you too." She whispered, and Sofie nodded again.

"You can't die." Sofie said, and her mother smiled. She didn't say she wouldn't or would. She just smiled. She'd smiled like that once before. When she'd first seen Sofie. She'd had holes in her dress and grime all over. She'd been selling flowers. Wilting, dead things.

But mama hadn't cared. So Sofie gave her a flower for being so kind.

"Mama. Don't die." Sofie said, turning her attention to a lock of her mother's inky black hair that brushed her cheek.

"Sofie, I'm just sick, darling."

Sofie nodded again. "Well, get better. You can't die because you owe me."

Her mother looked confused.  
"Oh? And what do I owe you?"

Sofie sat up and noticed how thin her mother was.

"You owe me five septims for the flower I gave you."

Her mother smiled and slowly wiped something from her cheek. "Is that so? Well tell Papa and he'll pay you for it."

Sofie shook her head, and her mother kept wiping at the wet trails on her cheeks.

"No. You have to pay me when you're not sick anymore. Papa can't do it, it won't count."

Her mother nodded her consent, and Sofie snuggled back up to her.

"You got it?" Sofie asked, trying to sound stern. Her mother needed to know she was serious.

"I got it." Her mama croaked. She wrapped her arms around Sofie and tried not to cry harder. From the doorway her papa stood with his hands on Runa's shoulders, and she was covered in mud and still soaking wet.

Her face was unreadable.

It was raining, still.

Cold, grey gloomy kind of rain. The kind that starts late in the evening and doesn't stop. It pounds against the roof and runs down the walls into the dirt. Everything is muddy and sopping wet, and the air smells muggy and weighed down. The kind of rain that washes everything away.


	3. Chapter 3

She slid out of the saddle and threw the reins loosely over a low branch. The horse snorted at her, and she gave the old mare an affectionate pat on the side of her neck.

"Don't fuss, I'll be right back." She said, though she could tell the beast wasn't reassured.

In fact, she wouldn't have stopped at all had the rabbit she'd been hunting for practice not taken off past a bush of nightshade. She kept her bow out, an arrow notched, and slowly made the trek down the curve of the hill along what used to be a well hidden path. At the bottom was a black pool, and she stared at it skeptically for a moment. The liquid, or whatever it was, resembled tar in look and texture, and she experimentally kicked a stray rock into the middle. It sank quickly enough, but she still kept her distance. The small clearing was dark, despite it being the middle of the day. The forests around Falkreath were always a tad gloomy, especially this late in the season. But there was... something different about this clearing. Something wrong. The air was heavier, and she could feel a presence behind her despite the obvious signs that no one had been there in years.

Trying to maintain her calm, Runa slowly turned, bringing her bow up and squinting through the fog.

There was nobody there. Taking careful, measured steps forward, she kept her weapon up as she approached a rock wall, framed by stray weeds and a towering pine surrounded by more nightshade bushes.  
There, tucked between the rocks and smartly hidden, was a door.

Not a door for an old mine, or a bandits hideout. This door was far more than that.

Thick and made of dark stone, a massive skull had been carved in the middle, and beneath it a much smaller skeleton sat with five skulls in its lap.

Runa put away her arrow and slid the bow into the clip on her belt so that it rested against her thigh. She tentatively reached out, drawn to the door despite the ominous feeling that emanated from it. She was enthralled, and as she rested her finger tips along the curve of the eye socket, the air around her shifted.

The door hummed and released a gust of wind that sounded to Runa more like a contented sigh. Then, someone spoke.

"What is the music of life?"

She didn't say anything, just gasped and took a step back. Her heart was pounding hard against her ribs, pushing against her chest and making it impossible to take a deep enough breath to create words. So she didn't speak, just slowly backed away until the door sighed and stirred the dirt up around her legs again.

"You are not worthy."

Runa was more shocked that the ethereal voice had spoken once more. What it said held no meaning. The voice, the power behind it, rattled her. It shook her to her very bones.

She didn't touch the door again, but took off at a run up the hill. She ripped her horse free from the branch she'd secured her too and swung into the saddle. She spun her around and dug her heels in sharp, causing the horse to whinny in fear and stumble up the road before catching her barrings and settling into a full run.

The fog swallowed up her trail and left no sign that anyone had passed through.

At home she closed the door to her bedroom and stripped down til she was bare. She splashed cold water from the basin against the wall on her skin and scooped some back and through her long hair. She rubbed her skin until it was red, then dried off and pulled on a dress and some thick boots. She pulled all her hair over her shoulder and paced the floor as she braided it. Her room was still warm, despite the dying fire, and beyond the door she could hear laughter and chit chat as the household assembled for dinner.

This meant her father was already at the table, puffing on his pipe and nibbling on fresh bread. Durak, the steward, would be in the kitchen, making sure everything was in order. And her mother... Her mother was probably knee-deep in twenty different books trying to figure out something that she'd come across in either her travels or her research.

Runa opened the door and waved half heartedly at the assembled group at the table.

It wasn't uncommon for her mother to have guests, but this time she could see they were for her father. Five grown men, all wearing matching brown leather armor sat at the end of the table with her father, and all were laughing loudly with mugs of mead and broad smiles.

Any old day, she'd happily plop down into a chair a tell a joke raunchy enough to even shock her papa. But not tonight. No, she needed her mother and the way she hurried up the stairs and out of sight did not go unnoticed.

Her mother was where she always was. Locked in a tower surrounded by books. Runa didn't even knock, she just walked in and closed the door behind her to block out the loud noises of the main hall. The room was enchanted, and she sighed with content at the sudden silence.

Her mother was bent over a table marked with blue chalk and pieces of a shattered soul gem.

She was a tall Dunmer with strikingly smooth features, deep blood-red eyes, and a black braid that was pinned up in a practical way for the work she was doing.

"What is it?" She asked in a clipped tone.

"I'm sorry, mother. I didn't mean to intrude on your work."

Runa's mother had always been impatient and too orderly. The two rarely got along.  
"I found something. Out in the woods today while hunting."

Her mother scowled and wiped soul gem dust from her hands. She was a mage, and didn't appreciate being interrupted It was even worse hearing that her stunning Runa had been out in those filthy woods, traipsing around after some... animal.

"Oh?"

Runa nodded.

"I found a door. With skulls on it. It spoke to me..." She stopped speaking, stunned to see that her mother was smirking. She didn't look surprised, or interested, mad or happy. Just... amused.

"I knew there was something I forgot to do." The Dunmer said softly to herself, and she turned back to her table and picked up the chalk to redraw a line.

"What do you mean? Do you know what it's for?" Runa asked, and she stepped back as her mother swung her hand back and pointed to the door. She didn't even look up from the intricate designs she was making on the shiny black table.

"It's nothing."

Runa took a deep breath. Every time they spoke they ended up arguing, but this time she refused to take the bait.

"You must not have heard me. The door SPOKE to me. Isn't that... strange?"

Her mother shook her head more aggressively.

"Just stay away from it Runa. It's from an old cult that was destroyed years ago." She looked over her shoulder, straight into her daughter's eyes. She was irritated.

"I mean it."

"But mother-"

Runa stumbled back as her mother turned on her, her face unnaturally angry in the dim candle light.

"I will not stand here while you run your mouth about something beyond your comprehension! The door in the woods is off-limits. I forbid you to go there again, Runa! Is that understood?!"

The room shook and Runa pressed her back to the door, eyes wide at the strength behind her mothers voice. After several seconds of silence, the Dunmer pulled back, smoothing her thin hands over her hair and taking deep breaths. Her lips were tightly pursed together, and she turned sharply from Runa to bend once more over the table.

"Runa, I-" She started saying, but Runa had already left, closing the door a little too harshly behind her.

Her heart was beating quickly, so she took a big breath to steady it. She should have known her mother would have been of no use and that provoking her would just lead to shouting.

That's just what her mother did best. Shouting.

And her motives were always the same. Any time something seemed dangerous, she was told to steer clear of it without any solid explanations. It'd been like that since she was ten years old and brought to live with her parents. Half of the things in her own house was off-limits, from some of the ingredients in the green house to the weapons tucked away behind the locked doors of the north wing of the house.

Her mother didn't need to protect her. She didn't need to shout to be heard.

Runa wasn't a child, she was fifteen summers old. Stomping back to her bedroom, she sat on her bed, pouting and mad. She resigned herself to cleaning her gear and preparing for bed. The volume issues she could ignore. But being treated like a child was becoming a nuisance.

If nothing else, she'd dig through the library and see what she could find about the door. And as a last resort, she'd bribe her father with a boiled cream treat, and see what he had to say about it...


End file.
